Grieving
by Bobbie23
Summary: Set after 7x12, Unknown Subject, Morgan helps Emily confront her own death.


Author Note – again originally intended to write a second chapter for another story, and this came out. Though as I have the day off tomorrow that chapter should be fixed soon and be posted in the next day or two. Let me know what you think.

Grieving

"My grief lies all within, and these external manners of lament are merely shadows to the unseen grief that swells with silence in the tortured soul" William Shakespeare

Morgan followed Emily into her apartment. He casually looked around; making sure nothing was out of place, no one lurking in the dark. He had been there quite a few times since she had moved in a few months before when she returned to the team, usually after their workout sessions when they would eat lunch or watch a movie together.

He knew the case had affected her more than she was letting on; the lost look on her face as she had left the interrogation room earlier that day had broken his heart. Morgan had seen the parallels between the case and her own experience with Doyle, especially as she had just been to her final therapy session and her follow up meeting with Hotch. Though neither of them mentioned what had been said, Morgan had immediately picked up on the atmosphere between Emily and the Unit Chief. When Morgan had led the rest of the team on to the plane to go back to DC, he had noticed Emily wiping her face hastily as she moved to the back of the plane and pretended to fall asleep.

The rule about inter-team profiling had gone out of the window from the fallout caused by Doyle resurfacing. Morgan had noticed the scrutiny with which Hotch had been observing Emily with, because he himself had been doing the same since her return.

Morgan placed her bag down beside her closed bedroom door. He had ignored the look she had sent his way when had grabbed it from the trunk and refused to relinquish his hold on it, carrying it up to her apartment. As Emily stood in the doorway of the living room, she turned to look at him.

"Do you want to order take out?" She asked. She looked exhausted to him.

"You look beat Emily, are you sure you don't want me to go?"

Emily shook her head. "Not unless you want to." Morgan could tell from the tone of her voice that she wanted the company.

"Nowhere I'd rather be," he smiled gently at her. Her guarded expression melted away to one of relief as he said that.

"Good," she said as she passed him her house phone. "If you order, I'm going to change into more comfortable clothes." Emily moved past him to her bedroom, her perfume drifting over him as she brushed against him.

"What do you want? Chinese, Thai or Pizza?" He asked as she pushed open her bedroom door.

"It's up to you," Emily called over her shoulder. Morgan nodded as he dialled her local pizza place, he ordered her favourite topping. After that was done he sat on the sofa, turning on the TV while he waited for Emily to return. Ten minutes passed before he started to worry about her, but just put it down to her needing a moment to herself, so he waited. Five minutes later and Emily still wasn't back.

Morgan got up to find her. He approached her door, listening for anything out of place. Silence. He knocked on her door, no answer. He knocked again a little louder. "Em? You okay in there?" Morgan called through the closed door. When he got no response, he gently turned the handle. Morgan stood in the open door way looking the sight before him for a moment.

Emily was stood in front of her full length mirror, she hadn't changed out of her clothes yet, her hands held the hem of her shirt just above the gnarled pink scar on her otherwise pale abdomen, her gaze fixated on the twisted skin. Watching her from where he stood, his heart broke as he was assaulted by his own memory of finding her on the floor of the warehouse, watching the blood pouring out through their joined hands as he pleaded with her to keep her eyes open, to stay with him, while she begged him to let her go.

Ever since her return, Emily had concentrated on how the others were reacting to her being back, rebuilding bridges with the rest of them. Morgan had only heard her briefly mention to Reid how the situation had caused her to have an ulcer when he had been trying not to listen to their conversation. He knew her guilt about what happened would stop her from discussing her own feelings with anyone. Morgan cursed himself for not realising she was avoiding her own feelings.

He cleared his throat softly. Part of him regretted it as it broke through her reverie, her eyes snapping to his as she hastily dropped her shirt. When Emily didn't tell him to leave, Morgan took it to mean he could enter her room. He kept his eyes locked on hers through, looking for any sign of dismissal as he approached from behind her. There was none.

Morgan stood behind her, looking at their reflection in the mirror. Emily jumped slightly but didn't move away as Morgan placed his hands softly on her hips near the hem of her shirt. "Can I look?" Emily held his gaze as she took a deep breath as she covered his hands with her own, guiding them to the hem of her shirt. Together they lifted the fabric back to its previous position.

A tear escaped her eye as she dropped her gaze back to the exposed skin. She watched fascinated as Morgan's hand slipped out from underneath hers to trace the rough skin. She felt his pulse quicken as she leant back in his arms, his breath on her neck. Emily dragged her eyes back up to his, and she gasped softly as she saw his eyes watering. Morgan took his hand away and enclosed her in his arms as the tears fell from her eyes.

The warmth that he provided comfort as she felt herself come undone. She had been holding it in since interviewing Regina Lampett that afternoon, longer than that if she was honest with herself. But today had been the day that broke the dam. Emily had known she would break, part of the reason she had let Morgan accompany her home was to try to delay it. But in the end, she was glad he was there. Over the years, they had shared some of the most private thoughts, feelings; he knew the real her better than anyone in the team, was able to comfort and reassure her better than anyone. She felt cold, despite their combined body heat. She needed more. Just as she turned in his arms to return the hug the doorbell rang.

Reluctantly, Morgan released her and she was brushing away the tears on her streaked face. "I'll answer that, and meet you in the living room," he told as he went to answer the door.

After paying for their dinner, Morgan placed the pizza box on her coffee table and went to get plates, napkins and drinks from the kitchen while he waited for her to emerge from her bedroom again. When she did, he could see she had wiped her face, and changed into her pyjamas and a huge jumper that covered her small frame. Emily curled up into the corner of the sofa, and pulled the blanket that lay over the arm rest tightly around her.

As Morgan sat in the opposite corner, she opened the pizza box and smiled at him shyly as she saw her favourite topping, knowing he hated it. "Thank you," Emily told him as she sat back.

"Hey now don't get thinking that I like ham and pineapple, when we're at my house we're gonna eat pepperoni. Still think you're crazy, I mean who wants fruit on their pizza?" Her smile got a little bigger as she began to nibble on her slice. He knew she wouldn't eat much; she was only doing it to alleviate his worry about her.

"I do," she paused. "Thank you," she said again as he picked up his own slice and began to pick the offending pieces off.

"You said that already," he said back.

"I meant for being here," she whispered, taking another bite. Morgan turned his attention back to her. "For being my friend."

"Always." Their gaze held for a moment before they continued to eat in silence, their attention turning to the film on the television. After finishing his last piece, Morgan placed his plate back on the coffee table. Emily had finished before him, having eaten only one slice. The film had just finished, so he picked up the remote and turned the television. He sat back and looked at Emily expectantly.

She wiped her hands again on the napkin in her hands, as she thought of how to continue. She owed him an explanation. "She asked me if I knew what it was like to have the monster in my nightmares come back," Emily told him quietly. "She realised my monster is dead. She has to live with hers." A tear ran down her cheek. "The Piano Man branded his victims with the wire he wrapped around their wrists." She took a shaky breath before continuing. "Ian Doyle branded me; I look at it every day. I live with it every day."

"Emily, he's dead. He's not going to take you away from us again." A look of doubt flashed across her face as she listened to what he had to say. "What did the therapist say?" He asked quietly.

"She asked if I ever mourned my own death," Emily admitted. "She wondered if I lost myself a little."

"Have you?"

Emily shook her head. "I never thought of it that way, because I lived. To me, it was like you guys had died instead of the other way around. The entire time I was in Paris, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I was petrified I would hear t he had come back and gotten to one of you. That he killed one of you. When he died on the tarmac, it felt like I could finally breathe again."

Morgan listened to her, trying to figure out something to say to comfort her. "Ten rows from the back, four in from the right."

Emily stared at him for a moment, her confusion evident. "Excuse me?"

"The grave, it's still there," he muttered. "Have you ever visited it?" She shook her head as she realised that he was talking about her own grave. "Maybe it will help you figure out a few things."

"I don't know, Morgan," she said.

"It helped me when you were gone," Morgan told her, and her gaze softened as she tilted her head to the side, waiting for him to elaborate. "I would talk to you, just to bounce ideas around, updates on Declan, and everyday life. It helped me figure some things out, maybe you'll find what you're looking for."

….

The next day, Morgan pulled his car to a stop in the small car park. As he took the keys out of the ignition, he turned to Emily. "Do you want me to come with you?" Morgan asked as he watched Emily look at their surroundings.

She shook her head. "No, I need to do this on my own." Morgan reached over and squeezed her hand reassuringly. Emily smiled gratefully at him. "You don't have to wait for me; I don't know how long I'll be."

"I'll be right here," Morgan told her.

"Thank you for bringing me."

"Always," he said as she got out of the car. Emily smiled back at him as she started down the gravel pathway to the gate.

She followed his directions to the headstone. She knew he thought this would help, but Emily had her doubts. Everyone thought she was missing something since her return. She hated to admit it, but it was different. She had once been confident interacting with the other members of the team, whereas now she was second guessing every word she said to them, overcompensating for lying to them, abandoning them. The Emily Prentiss she used to be was lost.

Emily stepped on to the grass, passing the other graves there. As she reached the grave, Emily stood at the edge staring at the headstone. Her headstone.

_Emily Prentiss_

_Oct 12. 1970 – March 7 2012_

_Fidelity_

_Bravery_

_Integrity_

Those were the words her friends had chosen for her after everything they had gone through because someone was seeking revenge on her. Her eyes watered as she re-read them over and over again. She didn't know how long she had been standing before she felt Morgan approaching her.

"Why did you choose these words?" Emily asked him as he came to stand beside her.

"Dead or alive it's who you are," Morgan explained. "Emily, I know you feel guilty about what happened. But you shouldn't. You survived. What matters is that you came home."

"He's still there when I wake up from a nightmare, still lurks in the back of my mind," she took a deep breath. "I know exactly how Regina Lampett feels. Because my monster came back to get me. I can't honestly say that if I had been alone that I would have stopped her from killing him."

"Yes you would," Morgan said firmly. "You upheld the law; you made sure that man saw justice, that his victims were given a small sense of peace that he had been caught, you did the right thing." He paused as that sank in. "That's who you are. You are loyal, brave, and honest." Emily felt his hand grasp her own as the tears flowed freely. "You can't let him win, because it will kill you from the inside out, and I don't know how we will cope with having to bury you again. We need you."

She closed her eyes as she tried to fight the emotions his words stirred within her. "Help me," she whispered as she buried her head into his shoulder and sobbed out her grief. Emily cried for the person she used to be, the person she wanted to be. As she stood in Morgan's arms, she promised herself she would be that person again.

'_Fidelity. Bravery. Integrity.'_ That's who she was.


End file.
